


I'd Give You My Heart

by FeythInWords



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional, Explicit Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeythInWords/pseuds/FeythInWords
Summary: How can we possibly understand ourselves, our feelings? I figured I'd understand them when I became an adult. Maybe I do and just don't realize it. Maybe I'm just as clueless as I've ever been. Looking back, I try to piece together what it all meant. And still, I somehow feel like it's all a guess, like I can never understand myself, you... him. People are so complicated, so confusing. Why can't I figure this out? Why aren't you here to figure it out with me? Why is it all so hard to put into words... I miss you.
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (If you're looking for something lighthearted and uplifting, please don't go further. I don't want to say much about this piece. I wrote it a while ago but wasn't really ready to post it until now. It's a heavy emotional piece that may cause a few tears. I keep coming back to this, keep trying to polish it. But I think it just is what it is. So I'm just going to leave it here. Thank you.)

**Freya**

**Meeting**

I remember when I first saw you, sitting on that cold, plastic chair. You looked skinny and awkward and small. You kicked your feet to the sides, colliding them when they met back at the center, small rubber soles bumping against each other in a war of dominance. Most kids would throw their feet forward, but not you. You were always different.

I wanted to talk to you, because you looked light. You weren’t panicked or scared or sad. You weren’t hiding. And you weren’t seeking. You were tiny and free and unburdened. You weren’t waiting for anything. Maybe you could be waiting for something. And maybe that something could be me.

When you’re stuck in a hospital, everyone around you is sick and tired and troubled. There’s no time for you with them and there’s no time for them with you. You’re all carrying your own illness. It’s like looking into a mirror. I didn’t really want to see my reflection. I just wanted to forget for a while.

And there you were. I think that you were probably too young to deal with the reality of what a hospital is. At five years old, I’m sure that hospital was more of a playground to you and most of the equipment and machines just looked like cool toys. I remember really wanting to play with the MRI machine the first time I saw it. But the hospital wasn’t a playground, not to me. It was my prison. Don’t get me wrong, your mom was a great nurse. I really can’t imagine life without her there. But I still felt caged. With all the rules and limits and tests to take and places to be, it was smothering.

So when I first saw you, maybe somewhere deep within me I knew. That this would be the boy who would help me live.

I’m really glad I snuck off the ward that day, even if it was only by a few feet. I’m glad that I met you and that we became friends. I’m glad that we were more than friends. I’m glad you weren’t stuck in the hospital with me. I’m sorry that you were stuck in the hospital with me. I’m glad that I loved you. I’m glad that I left you. I’m sorry that I lied so much. I should’ve been more honest. I’m glad that I had time with you. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time. I’m glad that you have more time.

And really, I mean really. I’m glad that he’s there.


	2. Part 1

**Merlin **

**Remembering**

I had a good childhood. Not that it was all fun. But mostly. I can’t remember when or where we met, you were just always there in my mind. Is that bad? It feels like meeting you was important, like it was a big day that I should always remember. But I don’t. You were constantly there, with your hospital gown and your favorite blue pajama pants. The ones with the racecars. I know that I thought those pants were weird at first. I even told you that, remember? Girls can’t wear blue and they don’t like racecars. You told me I was stupid and you said you were going to be a racecar driver when you grew up. I always wanted to see that, more than anything.

Everything was fast with you. I loved that. I feel like so much of my life was moving past me when you weren’t around. I guess I needed you even more than you needed me. You’d argue with me about that, I know. But you can’t, so I guess I win.

Remember when we stole that wheelchair? We must have been seven? Eight? Such a cliche, but it was so you. You sat in the wheelchair and kept yelling “Faster!” as if I wasn’t already running as fast as I could. You know I was never that athletic, right? I ran so fast that day. I remember the feeling of fire in my legs and the tight grip pinching at my sides. And I remember my cheeks aching. I guess smiling is a workout too.

Whenever I remember myself running, I remember you. You know that I was always more of a walker. Even in gym class, all I ever did was jog. But for you, I’d run. Always. I just wish that running was always about stealing wheelchairs and evading nurses.

**Asking**

I knew that you were sick. You were in a hospital and normally healthy people don’t have to be stuck in a hospital for weeks on end. But people go to hospitals to get better. I thought you’d get better.

You know I asked my mom once? I don’t remember the exact conversation, but you’d been in the hospital for a while and I was starting to get a bit… confused? Worried? Maybe even scared. I asked when you’d get better, when you’d leave the hospital. I was six maybe? I didn’t really understand why my mom didn’t just smile and answer. She sat me down on her lap and cradled me for a while, stroking my back as she rocked me. I remember feeling a bit uncomfortable, because I just wanted to get an answer and go play. She told me that you were sick, that your heart wasn’t healthy and that you weren’t responding to the medicine the way that they had hoped. I don’t think I really understood.

When she put me down, she kissed my forehead and pet my hair. I guess that’s what a mom does when she thinks about a sick kid. But I think I was angry. In that way that a little kid is, when they don’t really understand why they want to kick something, they just do. My mom didn’t really tell me much about you. I remember when she woke me up in the middle of the night and dropped me at the neighbor’s house. I didn’t know why, she just said she had to go to the hospital. Now, I don’t really think she had to go. She worked the morning shift and never went to the hospital at night. I think she just wanted to know ahead of time. If you were dead.

**Riding**

I often think about the park at the end of the street. We snuck down there almost every night that one summer when we were… nine? No, we must’ve been ten. It was that summer before you were back in the hospital.

I’d show up down the street from your house with my bike. You were demanding that way, always knew what you wanted. If I didn’t have my bike, you’d walk back to my house with me to get it. I liked walking better, but with you? I needed my bike.

You’d stand on the back, feet planted on the rods extending from the wheel, and for a while your hands would grip at my shoulders. You didn’t tell me to go faster, but I knew how your mind worked. Always faster. Even when we weren’t on my bike. And your hands would lift from my shoulders and you would soar over the pavement. And I would be terrified.

What if your feet slipped or you lost your balance? What if you fell? What if you hurt yourself? But I never stopped you. I just kept riding. I think that’s just me, ugly and true. I never stopped you from hurting yourself. I never stopped myself from hurting you.

Hey Freya, do you think that two people can ever really stop hurting each other?

**Wishing**

The park was always quiet so late at night. We didn’t have that delinquent teenage element hanging out and drinking on the swings like you see in the movies. It was just empty and still. We had the place to ourselves.

We’d lie on the picnic tables, all splinters and warped planks. It was uncomfortable in that way that made it feel like a grand adventure. Your feet would be at one end, mine at the other, and our heads would meet in the middle. You told me if I saw a shooting star, I’d have to make a wish. I never saw one. I think you were always hoping you would.

Did you know then? I’m starting to think you did. You were ritualistic in our trips to the park, always saying, “See you tomorrow,” when we parted. And I knew exactly what you were talking about. Now I wonder what you were going to wish for, if you got to see your star. What did you really want more than anything?

I wish I had known what I should’ve wished for, what I’m now wishing for, what a part of me will always be wishing.

**Kissing**

That park was ours in my mind, will always be ours. Staring at the stars from the ancient wooden slats of a prehistoric picnic table, we talked about everything. And nothing. Not once did you tell me anything I needed to know, but you always told me everything you wanted to tell. Everything no one else listened to.

I think that was our entire world that summer. I wish that could've been our world. So small and alone and undisturbed. I wonder if I really would've been happy, just the two of us at the park forever. Probably not, but you know I would've tried. You know I did try.

That rickety table was where you first kissed me. Or where we first kissed. Two ten year olds trying to find adulthood amidst the trappings of children. Because life was never fast enough for you. Or maybe, life was too fast for you. Maybe all this time, you were just trying to keep up.

Danny kissed Meg, you had said. And I didn’t respond.

I wonder what it’s like, you had said. But still I was silent.

Can I kiss you? you asked. And then quickly continued, Just to see what it’s like.

Sure, I replied completely unsure.

You sat up on the wooden surface, not all the way but enough to prop yourself up against the rough grains of the table. I didn’t move, just watched you out of the corner of my eye. I remember your hair, long and brown and feathery, tickling at my face as you leaned over me. It was quick and light and everything a kiss between ten year olds really is. And that confused you and it confused me and we stared at each other as your hair continued to tickle my chin.

I guess that’s what it’s like, you said and you laid back down next to me.

**Blaming**

I know that I can’t talk about us without talking about him. But I can’t yet. Just… Don’t blame him. It was my fault and you know that. So don’t. You know it was always all my fault. So just blame me, okay? Just blame me.

**Admiring**

We always liked your scar. It was cool in that grownup way. I don’t think either of us realized exactly what it meant. Even remembering it, I feel so conflicted. It was a mark of your illness, the potential death that you could have had. It was also stolen time, a life given to you.

I remember the first time you showed me. You said it was okay even if I was a boy, cause it was me. I don’t know what I really thought of it at the time. It was both awful and awesome. I think I was overwhelmed by it all. Even though it was just a line down the middle of your chest. Even though you hardly had a chest. But you smiled at me so I smiled back.

I don’t think you know how brave you really were. You were fearless and undaunted. At least, to me you were. But sometimes? Sometimes, I wonder.

I get this image in my head: You as a child, curled up in the dark somewhere trembling and alone. I really hope it wasn’t like that. I really hope you would’ve talked to me. I really hope you weren’t protecting me. I wanted to be the one protecting you.

**Celebrating**

January 19th. You know I’ll always love that day. You didn’t, I know. And I know why. Now, I know why. But I’ll always love that day.

One year older. I guess that doesn’t always mean the same thing to people. Celebrating someone’s birth, celebrating someone’s life. Celebrating a year gone. Celebrating a step closer to…

I know why you didn’t like your birthday. But I want to celebrate you being born, you coming into the world. Because you came into my world. I know we wanted different things. Now more than ever I know that. But I did love you. I do love you. And I’ll never be sorry about that.

**Thinking**

I know you thought that he was my everything, is my everything. But he’s not you know. There were so many things that you were that he can never be. He can’t replace you and he’s never tried. I really appreciate that. Cause if he tried, I know I’d be pissed. Like really fucking pissed. Cause you’re not someone who can be replaced.

You knew that, right?

**Pretending**

I’m sure the only reason you ever liked dresses was so that you could ruin them. You probably fantasized about wearing some gorgeous evening gown only to rip a slit up the side and jump on a Harley to ride off into the night. Letting your elegantly styled hair down to whip up in the wind around you. Going fast enough to escape everything left behind.

Halloween was always your favorite holiday. It was the same for a lot of kids, but probably more so for you. It was the day you got to be something else, something not you. Costumes were never a big deal to me, but you always got so excited that I couldn’t help but be caught up in your exuberance. Pirates and astronauts and cowboys. Or cowgirls?

And then there was that time that you wore the bandana and leather vest. When I asked you what you were supposed to be, you answered “A Hell’s Angel, duh!” like I was the stupid one for not automatically getting it. Leave it to you to be… well, you.

**Proving**

Anyone who knew you for more than 5 minutes knew that you weren’t “the sick kid”. You were a kid who was sick, but you weren’t “the sick kid”. You never wanted that to be the thing that defined you.

I never thought of you that way. You’d make me forget all the time that you were sick, and when I remembered, you’d just smile as if it wasn’t a big deal. A minor annoyance that you would soon beat into submission.

Maybe because you were a girl, you felt like you needed to prove it even more. That you weren’t this weak, fragile little thing. I hope not. I hope you weren’t trying to prove anything to me. I know exactly how strong you were, and if you had been hurt, been in pain? If you needed comforting and I could give it? I would have. Without a thought, I would have and I never would have thought it made you weak or fragile. People are allowed to feel hurt.

You were always allowed to feel hurt.

**Perceiving**

The first time you had an attack in front of me… I don’t even know. I think terrified isn’t at all right. Don’t get me wrong, I was scared as fuck, Freya. I was So. Fucking. Scared. But it was so much more than that too. Angry and panicked and I think maybe even a little insane. Just in that moment.

Like part of me had left, like that part that made sense in my head, that kept me from being some wild animal, that kept me civilized, had left. It was just gone. Vanished.

Sitting in my mom’s car on the way home, I remember how I felt but at the time, I wouldn’t have been able to explain. I was just a kid, and my emotions were still largely undecipherable by my brain. I’ve thought about that moment many times since. The best I can come up with, even now, is this feeling somewhere between impotent and nauseous and guilty.

Did I change after that? I didn’t want to, tried not to. But I know that I didn’t want to let go. I think you could see that, that wisp of fear that settled somewhere deep inside of me. So deep that I couldn’t see it. I just did what I had to. I didn’t want to let go.

I don’t want to let go.


	3. Part 2

**Merlin**

**Choosing**

I guess I have to talk about him. About Arthur. Let me just say I didn’t lie to you about him. I mean, not always. Not a lot. I think mostly, I was lying to myself. And I think mostly, you knew that.

I don’t really want to talk about him, because in my head, you two have nothing to do with each other. And then I think, that’s wrong.

I don’t know, is it? Is it wrong?

He was around and he was part of my story. But he wasn’t really a part of yours, was he? I don’t know. I guess that was one of the things we just didn’t talk about much. Which brought the total number of unmentionables to a big, whopping two.

Your illness and Arthur.

Your genetic disorder and mine.

I know! I know. I can already hear you yelling in my head. But I just think sometimes…

Sometimes I think… If I had been born… Not ‘normal’. You and the rest of the world would beat me within an inch of my life for ever thinking that. But if I had been born… different. If I could’ve had a choice. If I could’ve chosen you...

Shit. I want to say that I would have. I really want to.

**Driving**

I remember when you kidnapped me. Well, I remember a lot of it. It was the day after my seventeenth birthday. It was good weather for May. You showed up in that red box of a car that you spent months saving up for. You loved it. Mostly because it was a car and it was yours. Still, it was a piece of crap.

You showed up and said, Get in. And I did.

We drove for, maybe half an hour before I asked where we were going. Mostly because I knew you wouldn’t answer. And you didn’t. You just smiled. It was _that_ smile. You know the one.

We drove all the way to Rochester and then followed the river. I don’t really remember what we were doing, just talking and driving. You found a good spot and pulled off. You got out and I followed. And we sat staring at the water, hand in hand.

Let’s be honest, this trip wasn’t about holding hands. When a teenage girl drives her boyfriend out of town in the middle of the night, I think there are certain expectations. Well, at least now I do. But y’know, my brain wasn’t really turned on. No, I don’t mean like that! I mean… I mean, I was stupid. I was really stupid a lot of the time. Cause I really didn’t think about sex and stuff. Not when I was around you.

I guess that was a big part of the problem.

**Seeing**

I don’t think you hated Arthur. For a while I did, you were always a bit mean to him, a bit put off. But when we first met him? It wasn’t like that. We all got along.

I think maybe… well, maybe you were… jealous?

Shit, I don’t wanna talk about this.

We were entering high school that year. You saw him first, I remember that. Because you pointed him out to me. You nodded toward him or pointed or something. And you said, Who’s that? as if you expected me to know somehow.

I know I said I don’t remember how you and I met. And I’m sorry Freya, but almost ten years later and I still remember seeing him for the first time. I have no fucking clue how the brain decides what it’s going to keep and what gets tossed. I heard some radio program discussing memories once that basically said that if you think about something often, your brain remembers it longer. Maybe that works if you’re trying to force something into your memory. But those random bits that pop up from years earlier even though you haven’t thought about them since? No clue.

When I saw him, it was like seeing a person for the first time. Not like seeing someone you know, because they’re not a person, they’re just them. Not like seeing some stranger that you would never see again who wasn’t a person but rather a part of the scenery. But I was seeing a person that I didn’t know, but that I would know later. A person that was actually a person but not yet knowing which person they are.

I don’t think I’m explaining this well.

**Erring**

That first year in high school. I think that’s when we started growing up. I mean really growing up. I guess most people probably feel that way, but a few more years would’ve been good. I guess that’s the story of my life.

Or the story of your life.

God, sometimes I really need to stop a sentence early.

**Envying**

Okay, let me try this again. Shit, I don’t even know what to say now.

High school. Our first year. You were on the transplant list. And I felt like I could barely move. Every day kept passing by and we kept laughing, kept smiling. We even made some friends. It wasn’t just the two of us anymore.

You didn’t want me to be alone in case…

I see that now. I didn’t then. The guys were fun, but they were guys and they were always running off to do something that you couldn’t do. Something I didn’t want to do. Because you couldn’t do it too.

Arthur was always the last one to leave us. He often looked over his shoulder as he left as if I’d change my mind. I never did. But I always watched as he left.

And you started to distance yourself from him. He was strong, capable. And he was confident and kind and happy. And I think you kinda hated that. I know you both, really well by now. And if you had had the chance to be you, I mean _really_ be you… you would’ve been a lot like him.

I think the biggest difference between you two was… well, it’s not something I can sum up in a single word. Arthur has always set his own pace and the world adjusts around him. But the world never quite fit you, it was never quite enough. You were always hungry for more.

I’m not comparing you. God I really don’t want to compare you.

I guess I’m just trying to say that you two would have been great friends, if things were different. But they’re not. And that’s not really fair.

But I guess fair went out the window 19 years ago...

**Walking**

One year, it snowed. And it just kept snowing. Everything was white. It was just after your birthday, remember? You had just turned, 15? 16? I think you were 15. Anyways, announcements were made, no driving unless absolutely necessary. The whole world seemed to fall into a hushed silence under the blanket of winter.

And there you were at my door. You wanted to take a walk. Never mind that there was a fucking blizzard outside, you wanted to take a walk. So what did I do? Of course, I put on my fucking boots. And you smiled and walked away, knowing that I would follow.

The world wasn’t just quiet, no. It was a distinct lack of sound, a void of all things audible. I would've thought that I’d gone deaf if it weren’t for the crunching of snow under our boots. We walked down the middle of the street without a word, our breaths visibly clinging to the air before us. And we just kept walking.

You’d stare up for long stretches, eyes facing the endless night above us. Frozen white fluffs melted on your face as they reached the end of their long downward journey. And I just watched you watch the world.

I remember stopping to look behind me. I’m not sure why, I think maybe I just needed to stop for a moment. But I think the image I saw somehow got frozen into my brain because it’s still there, completely immovable. The whole white world was utterly undisturbed, save for two pairs of footprints left behind in the snow. You and me, and the path we left.

I have no idea how long we walked. I know that my cheeks were bright red by the time I got home and my socks were soaked through. You didn’t say anything that whole time, never even told me why you felt like walking. I guess you just did.

**Smelling**

It was June and the city was roasting. I think that may've been the only reason you agreed to go to the coast. Even though Arthur was going to be there.

Really he had to be there, since his sister and her friend were the ones driving. We piled into two cars and embraced the summer. Windows down, music booming, laughs and smiles and cramped spaces. I wore my swim shorts cause you told me that I couldn’t go to the ocean without them, and I wore a white tee shirt cause I knew that I wouldn’t be swimming.

I think I remember the smell the most. I put on so much sunblock that you’d think I was a night dwelling bloodsucker. I reeked of the stuff.

We spread our towels in what little shade we could find and we sat watching the others throw themselves at the surf. They would destroy whole sections of waves only to create new ones. They splashed and dunked and kicked. And I buried my feet in the sand.

Sometime between sunup and sundown on that little bit of coastline, Arthur ran toward us. He was waterlogged and out of breath and a thick layer of sand clung to his feet.

Hey, come join us, he said and I’m pretty sure I gave him some type of friendly no in response.

Now, I don’t know if it was the heat or the salt or the sun, but he said, Come on, Freya can live without you for five minutes.

It’s just a thing people say, an expression, an idio-what’s-it. We knew that. But still.

Damn. I mean, Damn.

**Surrounding**

It wasn’t about me. Okay, maybe sometimes it was. But not always. Not mostly.

Mostly it was about Arthur and you, and what you wanted to do and be and couldn’t. It was about what was yours and what you had and what you planned to keep. Okay, I guess maybe it was a little about me.

I wasn’t really at a place to be thinking about people in that way, in terms of closeness. Mm, no. Like, intimacy? Not just loving someone, but _loving_ someone. No, that’s not right either.

Arthur didn’t love me. I really don’t think he wanted to take me away from you. I think he just wanted some room, a place where he could fit around us.

But we were all sealed up.

At least, I thought we were. But even then there were cracks. And they weren’t from him, they weren’t from Arthur.

No. We made those cracks all on our own.

**Sitting**

It had always been the two of us, you and me. People hung around the fringes, orbiting around us is a way that we both acknowledged and dismissed. And I think we liked it that way.

And then Arthur was there.

It’s not like he was breaking down doors or tearing down walls. But he was knocking at the edge of our glass bubble. And I really didn’t know what to do about that.

On the beach, you straightened a bit, not enough to be noticeable but still, I noticed. You didn’t even look straight at him, you just angled your eyes in his direction.

I’m not a puppet master, you said, Merlin’s here cause he wants to be.

I don’t think Arthur moved. He just stared at you for a while, still trying to catch his breath. I don’t remember him looking angry or annoyed. Maybe a little... I don’t know, what’s a word that means ‘judging the situation’? Well whatever it is, when he did move, he just shrugged.

Fine, he said before plopping down in the sand next to my towel. Maybe I want to be here too, he said.

And there I was, knees curled up to my chin, staring at the ocean, sitting between the two of you.

How the fuck do I get out of that?

**Dripping**

It’s raining today. Again. The whole world is dripping just outside my window. Day after day. I still expect you to show up at my door. You’d say, Let’s go for a walk. Completely ignoring the wet. And then I remember.

The sound is the first thing my mind notices when I wake up, constant and arrhythmic. Drip, drip. Drip. It makes me want to shove my head under a dozen pillows. I don’t want to get out of bed, I’ll just live in the suffocating heat of my own breath. I don’t want to deal with people complaining about mussed hair or damp clothes, like it’s a fucking Shakespearean tragedy. As if the rain won’t end. Like a biblical fucking flood is going to come sweeping down the streets any day now. Fucking Christ, it’s just some fucking rain! It’ll pass, it’ll stop.

Drip.

I just want it to stop.

**Starting**

It had started easy enough. We were both 16. It wasn’t a special day. Not then. Not in the beginning. It was just a day. And then you made it special. It was a habit of yours or maybe a secret talent.

We sat in my bedroom. I was studying, or pretending to study. And you sat on the floor, leaning against my bed, flipping through a comic.

It’s a simple question, often asked between friends. Is there Anyone you like? I remember you used that word, Anyone.

Not really, I mumbled. It was a simple question. With a not so simple answer. Do you? I asked, thinking nothing of it.

Yeah, you said, You.

Oh. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Was I supposed to say something? Did you want me to say something?

Is that okay? You asked.

Yeah, I said.

You shifted on the floor, like you were trying to get comfortable and you said, I just don’t like the idea of you dating Anyone else.

Then I won’t, I said.

And I didn’t.

**Arguing**

You weren’t going to go to college. You could've. But it would have been time spent studying when you could've been living. I know, I knew. I kind of knew. You needed to be living. But still I tried to convince you. I wanted you safe, protected. I wanted you alive.

So while people were talking universities and housing arrangements, you contented yourself with the thought of diving into the unknown. The adventure, the thrill. You came up with a variety of options each one more ridiculous than the last. I never thought you were serious. Maybe you were. Maybe you would’ve been.

I had plans, you knew. I had always said I'd become a doctor. And we both knew why, silently, secretly. I guess plans change.

Arthur, he didn’t really agree with my plans. He said as much. You asked me about it once, the argument. Not as a question really. You just casually said, So you’re not talking to Arthur any more.

And I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. And we didn’t.

I don’t remember what was said, not exactly. Not anything specific. I didn’t want to tell you about it because a lot of it was about you. My girlfriend. Leading me around, making decisions for me. Basically smothering me. And I told Arthur he didn’t know what he was talking about and he told me I needed to step out of your shadow and I told him I loved you. And he told me I wasn’t in love with you.

It wasn’t a fight either of us could win. Cause neither of us was actually right. A little maybe, but not really.

I wasn’t in love with you, no matter how hard I tried to be. But you weren’t smothering me.

If anything, it was the other way around.

**Laughing**

Someone invited us out. I think it was Gwaine, which would have been something since he ended up canceling on us that night. We decided to go, because it was going to be a group event. Nothing really special, just a night of fun in the city.

Instead of a group function, it ended as something like a triple date. Lance and Gwen were there, then you and me of course. And then Arthur came with, I don’t remember his name. Jeff, Jeremy? Joffrey?

We went to that little shop, the one that was so tiny it didn’t even have a store front. Just four tables and a counter. The one with the addictive pasta sauce. We laughed and talked. Arthur and I were still on the outs, but we’d smile small smiles to each other, awkward and uncomfortable, then turn away purposefully distracted by someone or something.

Gregory! That was his name. Gregory… something.

After dinner we walked down the streets, the city lights dotting the world around us in shades of luminosity. We were decidedly un-careful, lacking in worry in a rather deliberate, teenage fashion. Lance had his arm around Gwen and Arthur held Gregory’s hand. We chatted and walked and enjoyed our city.

I don’t remember seeing him at first. He was walking towards us with his arm around a girl, I imagine. But he was forgettable then. Until we heard him, not quite murmured. He didn’t hide his words but they weren’t proclaimed with any force either.

Fucking queers, he said as he passed by us.

**Showing**

When Arthur had told us he was gay, there wasn’t a big announcement or meeting about it. There wasn’t even a party, although I remember Gwaine wanting to hold one. I think he may’ve just wanted an excuse. Arthur didn’t even tell us all at once. It was more like one day, he just stopped hiding what he already knew.

Most of us didn’t really pay much attention to it. I know it’s important because there’s no way that it’s not. But… it just wasn’t a big deal, not to us. Not to most of us. Most of us barely paused before moving on with a shrug, because it made no difference to them.

I paused. I paid attention. I, well... I thought it was a big deal.

Even though I had a girlfriend.

**Losing**

You turned to the man before the rest of us really knew what you were going to do. I should’ve known, but I was probably the last person who expected it. I mean, for you to stand up for Arthur? In order to defend his sexuality? Which had nothing to do with you. Except, well maybe it did. But all the more reason to stay quiet.

You followed the man, backtracking a little to pursue him for a few steps. Excuse me? you said.

Tell ‘em to keep it behind closed doors, he said, I don’t wanna see that shit.

If we’re talking about things that make us uncomfortable, then maybe you should keep your face at home, you rebutted and I reached out for your arm, mumbling about it being fine and we should go or something. Like it was me he had insulted. But the man continued.

You’re probably a closet lesbo, he said. That your boyfriend? Kinda girly, I can see the attraction.

That you’re girlfriend? You asked, nodding your head in the direction of the woman obviously waiting on the man. Well, I understand why I’m _not_ attracted then, you said.

The man tensed. I could see it. His hands fisting, his arms curling a bit at the elbows. He took a step towards you and I couldn’t do anything, not fast enough, not soon enough. Really, what could I’ve done anyways?

And then Arthur was there. He body checked the man backwards, flattening him into the side of a car. It hadn’t been excessive, his shoulder and bicep had made contact quickly and retreated just a fast. It had been graceful and artistic, his feet never once out of place, his balance never thrown. And it had been explosively aggressive. Just in that one moment when there was nothing between you and that man. And God, I felt… so many things, good and bad and ugly.

You want to hit someone, Arthur said, Hit me. You know you’d rather punch a queer anyways.

And he did. The man threw a wild haymaker of a punch that caught Arthur at the temple. And then he walked away, a bit hurried if you ask me.

And Arthur let him. We know he could’ve done more. But he didn’t. He just let it be. We all assessed the damage and saw a small cut next to Arthur’s eyebrow. He shook us all off saying it was fine. And we started walking again, trying to lose the feeling that had settled around the group.

And then, with a smile you said, Showoff.


	4. Part 3

**Merlin**

**Hiding**

There was a place, a place I went to when you weren’t around. A place for me, where I could forget to exist. It was by the hospital, towards the river. Far enough away that it would be hard to find me if someone were to look. And easy enough for me to be found again if I really wanted to be.

It became my Place at some point. A place for me. It wasn’t easy to get to from my house, but it was the place I most often ended up. When it was just me.

I think everyone has a Place like that. It might change, it might travel to somewhere new. It might be forgotten for a while when things are good, but it will come straight back when needed. A place where everything can fade away. Or where everything can be as real as it needs to be.

I wonder if you had a Place. Somewhere you would go, that I never went.

**Destroying**

You broke up with me. God dammit Freya, ...you broke up with me.

I think everyone was expecting it to go the other way. Maybe even you. God, I would have never left you. I wanted you to know, I _want_ you to know. I never would’ve left you.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that’s why you did it.

It was our last year in school. Your last year in school. Just after Halloween. Your favorite holiday.

I remember you held my hand a lot. You touched my cheek. You hugged me and kissed me and held me. Like you were trying to keep me together. Maybe we were trying to keep each other together. But we were falling apart.

**Searching**

That last year of high school, after Halloween. After…

Things went back to normal. In the most abnormal ways. You acted like nothing happened, but our bubble had been shattered. It wasn’t you and me anymore.

You went to the hospital for a checkup. It was sometime in November and gray clouds hung low. It was cold but dry. And I couldn’t go to the hospital. Because it wasn’t you and me anymore. So I went to my Place.

I sat with my back to the river and looked at the city. Parts of the city. I watched the cars pass by and I tried to ignore everything.

That night when I got home, I took a walk. I didn’t know where I was walking to, at least that’s what I told myself. But I think I knew what direction I was walking in. I think I knew that if I kept walking, I’d end up at his house. But I wasn’t really thinking about it. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

A car pulled off to the side of the road. It was his sister’s car, the one that took us to the beach. But Arthur was driving it. He offered to drive me home, and I said I wasn’t going home. He asked where I was going, and I said I was just walking. He asked if I wanted to go for a drive. I did.

He said that he’d heard about you and me. I didn’t answer, so I asked him about Gregory instead. He said that they were never really together. My stomach felt like it was full of rocks. I was uncomfortable and awkward and I didn’t know what to say.

And then Arthur started talking about Christmas. Said that Gwaine wanted to have a party. I said that Gwaine always wants to have a party. And we laughed and drove and talked. And he dropped me home.

And we were friends. And it was easy. And it was hard.

**Touching**

We kissed, me and Arthur. I didn’t tell you, didn’t tell anyone. Cause I wasn’t sure what to think of it. I was seventeen and I had only ever kissed one person before. You.

It was December. You were off with Gwaine planning the Christmas party. So Arthur said he’d drive me home. We pulled up to my house, but I didn’t get out. I just sat there.

Thanks, I said as I turned to him. I was trying to stall, I know.

And then his hand reached out. The heel of his hand found my jaw as his thumb touched my cheek. I felt his fingers on the side of my neck. And I felt his mouth against mine, soft and needing. It wasn’t quick or simple. And it wasn’t unpleasant. Not at all.

Thanks, I said again as he pulled away. And I got out of the car.

**Confusing**

I noticed it during the Christmas party. I noticed it before then too, but this time it made me feel tense and restless. Maybe because I was keeping things from you. Maybe because you were keeping things from me. God, I hated it. We were sitting next to each other, but the distance was too much. And the thing that tied us together felt like it was coming undone.

I don’t think it was though. I think it was just me, afraid of losing you, afraid of trusting us. Afraid that the thing we had already lost was the only thing that we had ever had. But it wasn’t. There was so much more to us than “Girlfriend” or “First Love”. I wish I had realized that in time. But I’ve only realized that with time.

It wasn’t Arthur’s fault. It was mine. I was unsettled and angry. At who? I don’t know. Probably myself.

So when he drove me home that night, I told him that I didn’t want to go home. He offered to drive around for a while. But I suggested we go to his house. Arthur was obviously hesitant. But he finally agreed.

When we got there, I started feeling stupid. And I told him as much. I didn’t go into the details, but he was understanding. He was kind, Freya. And he said that he liked me, but he knew that there was a lot going on with me. That he didn’t want to pressure me.

And it was all just so right, all the things he said. So I kissed him. And I kept kissing him. I stayed there all night and when we were done, I kissed him again.

Like I said, It’s really all my fault.

**Ignoring**

We didn’t really talk after that, me and Arthur. I avoided him. Stopped seeing him, stopped talking to him. I even avoided everyone else too, just on the chance that Arthur would be there. I cut myself off from everyone, everyone but you. And you humored me, spending time with me instead of them. I knew. That you turned people down. That you ignored people’s calls. Just so that it could be the two of us. Just for me.

Months passed. Spring came. We studied. We laughed. We graduated.

For a moment, I had my bubble back. But it was different. We were different. And I was just hiding. Maybe you were too.

Maybe, at the end of it all, we were both just a pair of cowards.

One afraid to live. The other afraid to die.

**Running**

I don’t remember who called me. I think I was on my way home. That summer right after we graduated. You were good, you were… good. And I didn’t expect…

I don’t even remember hanging up my phone, I’m not sure I did. I think I just shoved it into my pocket. Everything was just a haze, hanging and frozen in my mind. My feet slapped the pavement and my chest ached, lungs gasping for air. Not just my lungs… and not just for air… I’m not fast, never was, and I’m sure I lack endurance, fortitude. And the hospital was a few miles away. I couldn’t make it, there was no way I could make it. But I had to.

You weren’t dead. I knew that. I heard that. It could be hours before we knew anything.

But I couldn’t be across town doing nothing while you were fighting to live.

So I ran.

**Breathing**

The chairs in the hospital were always uncomfortable. Even the new ones, fabriced and cushioned. They weren’t comfortable at all. But I don’t think the chairs were to blame.

I sat there, unmoving. I used to do that when I was little. Lying in my bed, scared of something out there in the dark. And I'd freeze, barely breathing. And it would keep the monsters away. The lack of motion somehow protected me, saved me.

I could barely breathe.

Merlin.

I heard my name from somewhere. But I didn’t want to move, I couldn’t move. If I moved, time would start again, my spell would be destroyed, my protection lost.

He knelt before me, his face finally coming into vision. Arthur. He was there. We hadn’t talked, not for months, not really. But he was there.

And then my sight blurred and I couldn’t see him anymore. Salty liquid rendered my vision useless. I blinked and the tears spilled and he was next to me.

His arm cradled my head into his shoulder. It was uncomfortable, the wooden arm of the chair dug into my ribs but it was the best that the hospital could offer me in that moment. The best he could offer me. And he sat there, just holding me without a word. Both accepting and hiding all of me.

She’s not dead, I whispered. She’s not dead.

I kept saying it, like a mantra or a prayer. I just couldn’t bring myself to say, Yet.

**Comforting**

I don’t know who told Arthur, how he found out. But he showed up. Even though I hadn’t spoken to him since Christmas, even though I hadn’t asked him to come. He was there. At the hospital that night. And he didn’t leave.

Most of the time, I convince myself that he was there for you. Because you were a friend, because you were sick. Because you could've died that night.

But as he held me in the waiting room, I knew he was there for me. Because he knows that when you’re not there, I’m alone.

I think that’s another thing the two of you have in common.

Neither of you want me to be lonely.

But neither of you can stop me from being alone.

**Talking**

I don't want to go home, I said.

The hospital parking lot was spotted with electric lights, night swallowing the rest in monochromatic shades of black. Arthur turned toward me, his face full of hesitation with a hint of pain in his eyes.

Merlin… he began but he didn’t continue. I remembered the last time I said I didn't want to go home and I realized, I did that, Freya. I put that look on his face.

We could just… take a drive, I said.

And we did. We sat in silence as the engine hummed and the radio played softly. I listened to the music without hearing the songs at all. Before I knew it, we were in front of my house. But I didn’t get out of the car.

Do you regret it? Arthur asked, his eyes staring out the front windshield.

I don’t know, I answered honestly.

He shook his head. I tried, he said, tried to be angry, tried to not care. But I can’t. I just… can’t.

He finally looked at me as if begging for an answer that I couldn’t give him. I closed my eyes as his hand reached toward me. His touch was painfully addictive as his thumb slowly stroked my cheek.

I love her, I finally said almost choking on the words.

She ended it, Merlin.

Doesn’t matter.

How’s that?

Because I need to be with her. And if I’m with you, I can’t be with her.

Merlin…

The leather of the seat creaked as I leaned toward him. The kiss was quick and delicious and unavoidable.

I got out of the car.

**Fearing**

You were in the hospital for a while. Almost the entire month of August. And you were back on the transplant list. Something about narrowing vessels. I was planning on commuting that fall, so I’d still be living at home. And you couldn’t leave the city. Since you’d need treatment.

It wasn’t the same hospital. You weren’t a pediatric case anymore. You didn’t need a children’s hospital. And somehow, that made it a real hospital. Because they weren’t the same halls, or the same rooms or the same nurses.

We could hear people talking in hushed voices. We smiled and laughed and ignored the sound of your mother’s tears. You were dying again, but this time was different. This time was worse.

**Amazing**

When we were young, when we were children, we would sneak out almost every night to ride down to the park. We’d lie on picnic tables staring at stars and clouds. We’d laugh and talk and wish on satellites.

One night while we were lying there, it began to rain. I got up and ran toward my bike. But when I looked behind me, you weren’t there.

It was a downpour. Thunder, lightning, everything.

And you, standing on a picnic table. Your hair was clinging to your skin and your clothes were already soaked through. And you didn’t care. You just smiled and laughed as the rain came down.

I think that that’s how I want to remember you. More than anything.

Because you’re amazing, Freya. You were amazing.

**Hurting**

You should start dating.

What?

It’s been over a year.

I’m fine.

Are you sure? Because I think-

I said I’m fine.

...Were you angry with me? When I broke things off?

No. Not angry. Maybe… a bit hurt?

It was the right choice, you have to see that.

No I don’t.

Please. We can’t make each other happy.

I don’t care.

You’d rather be miserable with me than happy with someone else?

As if I’m miserable with you.

You would be. And so would I. To you, I’ll always be the girl in the blue racecar pants. And to me, you’ll always be the boy visiting me in my hospital room. And by God Merlin, I will always love that boy. Beyond words. But it’s time to grow up. We need to grow up.

**Saying**

That’s the last conversation I remember having with you. I’m sure we had more. Stupid stuff like what goes best with chocolate ice cream or what Hitchcock movie we were going to watch. But it all fades into a bunch of nothing at the end of it all.

I wish I could've had better last words from you. Something epic or wise beyond your years. But I bet the last thing I actually heard you say was something incredibly mundane.

Something like, See you tomorrow.

**Wanting**

Cold stone walls never seemed to fit you. You’ve always been more at home in the park, surrounded by trees. I know that you always liked churches in a slightly morbid way. The ritualistic quality of religion, the ceremony we bring to death. It seemed to fascinate you in a purely objective fashion.

Still, seeing you lying there… it was surreal.

People probably think that just because we didn’t talk about the possibility of your death, we didn’t talk about death at all. But you knew that I’ve always liked to think that heaven is real. And you would always say that I was just being greedy. That a dreamless sleep was a beautiful end to the story of one’s life. 

I don’t care. I’ll be greedy. I’ll be selfish. I’ll be cruel.

As long as you’re waiting, as long as I can see you again. As long as you’re there when I die, I’ll be happy.

Just don’t be gone. Not forever.

**Idling**

It wasn’t long after you… I was sitting at my spot. Just staring at the river like I was in some type of trance. It was the only thing to do. I couldn’t think, couldn’t turn my brain on. It would be too hard. So I stared at the river with my back to the city, willing life to stop existing.

I hadn’t spoken to anyone, hadn’t answered any calls, returned any messages. I took the semester off. My dreams seemed frivolous, pointless. To be a doctor when I could no longer…

I wasn’t really in a bad place. I just wasn’t in any place at all. And I couldn’t figure out what to do.

Freya, what do I do?

**Holding**

He found me. Arthur. Later he would tell me that he had been looking for me, because everyone was worried. I shouldn’t be surprised that he found me there. Afterall, I wasn’t terribly far from the hospital. And of course that would be a good place to start looking. Still, he found me.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, looking out at the water. I noticed him from the corner of my eye, and I knew it was him. I just knew.

I don’t remember if I was crying. Probably not. I think I was dried up by that point. But I felt like I was, like all the pain was still there twisting underneath the surface, hollowing me out. Either way, I’m sure I looked horrid because when I turned to face Arthur, I could see it in his face. The concern, the fear. And then the reflected pain, my own anguish looking back at me through his eyes.

Those eyes, so blue and perfect, began to shimmer with unspilled emotion. I could see his features distort, trying to fight against the unwanted tears. And I just... couldn’t.

I turned back to the river, unwilling to face the reality that Arthur brought with him.

You can’t be here, I said.

Arthur nodded but remained standing there. Just for a moment. A long moment. Without saying anything. Without doing anything.

And then he said, Okay. In the next moment, he turned away from the river. He was leaving, he was going to leave. He’d walk away, leave me alone, go back to the city. Because he knew. Because he knows. I can’t be with him. I can’t. But…

I reached out and grabbed his hand, the pain of everything crashing down on me again and again in waves. I was going to be alone. Again.

You can’t be here, I said a second time. But I kept his hand in mine.

When I finally withdrew from his touch, the space within my hand felt cold and empty. And I walked away.

**Existing**

If I ever had to explain to Arthur how hard it was for me to walk away that night, I don’t think he’d believe me. But I couldn’t stay. It felt like a betrayal. It felt wrong. But really everything feels wrong right now.

Going to school feels wrong, watching movies feels wrong, walking feels wrong. And holding Arthur’s hand felt wrong. The only thing that feels right is lying here thinking of you. Having conversations with the you that exists inside me.

Even when you were alive, I’d talk to you in my head. About things I wanted to talk to you about or things that I couldn’t talk to you about or things that we would talk about someday. But we won’t talk about these things now. All I have left of you is the ghost in my head. Mimicking you, imitating you. And never being you.

Just this fragile ghost and all the things I want to say.

**Betraying**

Is it true, Freya? Shit, of course it’s true. Gwaine wouldn’t lie, not to me. Not about this.

He stopped over today. Said he had something to tell me, something that you wanted to keep a secret. He didn’t say anything earlier because he didn't want to betray you. Even after you were gone, he didn't want to betray you. I can relate.

He said you two were dating. Kind of. Not exclusively, just spending time together. He said you were… that you had… been together. Christmas. After we broke up. Fuckin’ Christmas.

I wanted to punch him, Freya. I mean, I really wanted to punch him. A war of blame between myself and the world around me gave form to an anger that was born both of righteousness and guilt. And Gwaine was the closest target. In that moment, I swear I wanted to beat him fucking bloody.

I told him to leave instead.

He told me that I didn’t have the right to be mad. That I had never been in love with you, that I had never been honest with you. He said that you knew, that you knew the whole time.

Knew what? I yelled at him.

That you liked someone else! he yelled back, But you two- you’re so fucking tangled up together, even now.

Of course she knew!

Then why didn't you tell her? Why hide it?!

Because it didn’t matter! I mean… Why? Why didn't she say anything? Why didn't she-

I don't fucking know either! I’d tell you to ask her, but she’s fucking dead!

Don’t.

Don’t what, tell the truth? That’s all we have left Merlin! The fucking truth! And the truth is, She’s dead!

Those last words ushered in a sharp silence that sliced all sound from the world.

**Telling**

I went to the cemetery today. I stood in front of a stone bearing your name in elegant script. For a long time I just stood there, waiting.

I thought I’d be able to talk to you, that it would bring me closer to you. I thought I could empty myself of all these things that I had been carrying. But I had no words. And none came. All I had was the sight of your name carved on a rock.

So I left.

I spent the last week actively not thinking about the things Gwaine had said. But how long can I ignore the truth? How long can I hide? As I sit on a creaking swing staring at our empty table, the words that eluded me at your grave now flood my mind. Apologies, accusations, acknowledgments. I have them all. You weren’t honest with me and I hate that. Why didn't you say something? Why’d you let me keep this a secret? Why? Why...

Why couldn't I tell you? Because we would’ve changed. Everything would’ve changed. It might’ve been better but I didn’t want better. I just wanted…

I just wanted the girl in the blue racecar pants.

**Going**

If I had told you, then what? Would we’ve survived? Would we’ve been everything we were to each other? Or would we’ve gone our separate ways years ago?

I guess if we’re being honest, we should admit that we were never going to have a happy ending. Being together left both of our hearts vulnerable. We were destined for pain and we both knew it, didn’t we? If we’re being honest, we knew it was only a matter of time. That eventually, everything would fall apart.

I knew. I knew how you felt about me. And I never got to answer those feelings honestly. The truth is I loved you in a way that could never satisfy you. And that’s the reason I couldn’t say anything. Because I couldn't knowingly break your heart.

But I guess I did that anyway.

Here’s what I should’ve said a long time ago: I love Arthur. I’m _in love_ with Arthur.

I realize now that you knew this probably even before I did. But it’s still pretty freeing to say that to you, even if it’s only to the you inside my head. Is that okay? Is it okay if I love someone who isn’t you?

I have no idea what you’d say. The you in my head has grown split personalities. One forgiving me, one forsaking me.

I guess now I’ll never know. But if you were me? If you were here talking to my ghost, I’d know what I’d want. And I know what you’d do.

I’ll go. I can only hope that he’ll forgive me, that he still feels something for me. I can’t imagine that he waited, but maybe I’m not too late. And I think you’d hate me if I didn’t try. But I swear Freya… I’ll still always love you.

And I don’t regret any of it.


	5. Epilogue

**Freya**

**Forgiving**

From the moment we met, I knew that you were special. And I carried that knowledge with me like a secret, unwilling to tell anyone else how great you were. How great you are. It was fine that the rest of the world didn't see it because I did. And that made me special too.

I needed that, needed to feel like I was more than a patient, more than a statistic. You did that for me, in so many ways. I felt like a person. I was loved and cherished and treasured. I was special because of you.

When you met him, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my secret. I knew he’d see it, see you. He’d see how special you were. How special you still are. It hurt to think that I couldn’t keep you, that someday I’d have to give you back to the world that brought you to me. It hurt even more when I realized that you couldn’t keep me either, that one day I would go back to where I came from.

But I was happy. I was happy that I met you, that we were together. I was able to have a love that so many spend years finding, even if it didn’t quite fit right. I’m sorry that I left you, but I’m happy that I didn’t leave you alone. I’m happy that he sees what I saw. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am that I was a part of your life, but I’m relieved that your life is more than me. I want you to have the chance to be with him.

And really, I’m happy we were together through all of it.


End file.
